Demolition Lovers
by Zamelot
Summary: They were two young lovers on the run from the law. They promised never to seperate, but what happens when the law trampels over that promise and tears them apart? Under current revision
1. Early Sunsets Over Monoreville

**GABBA GABBA HEY!**

* * *

Demolition Lovers

Chapter One: Early Sunsets Over Monroeville

Her hands were held firmly in his grip, her fingers pressed to his lips. Her gaze was upward into his icy blue eyes. The desert land surrounding them was engulfed in the orange, red, and yellow light coming from the sunset. He finally pulled her knuckles away from his mouth and drew her close, wrapping his arms around her petite frame and burying his face in her water dark hair.

"We'll take to the highway, then we'll dump the truck and hitch-hike from there on till we reach the border,"

"Hitch-hike?" she questioned, sounding as if slightly in a daze. "Aoshi-sama, have you noticed all the wanted dead or alive posters with our faces on them?"

"Yeah… they've taken to calling us the 'Demolition Lovers',"

She chuckled and brushed his bangs from his eyes lovingly. " 'Demolition Lovers'…it has a nice ring to it. We should start leaving a trademark,"

"…What do you suggest?"

"Hearts!"

He scowled. No matter how much her loved her, hearts wouldn't happen. "No, that's too girly for me,"

She nuzzled against his chest and clutched at his leather duster. "Shots through the heart?" she suggested.

"What's with you and hearts?"

"Hearts are pretty!" she argued hitting his chest with her small, yet powerful fists.

He sighed. "You know? We'll kill the people who pick us up and I'll give you their hearts,"

She looked up at him with a sour face. "Ew," she retorted sarcastically. "Hearts are, like, part of the human body."

He watched the emotions running openly over her features, trying to memorize each expression before it changed. "What are you trying to tell me?"

She pushed his arms off and moved towards the small pick up truck they'd hijacked not even three hours ago. "I've seen so much blood in my life, that you'd think I'd be used to it by now," she said softly, the warm desert breeze blew through her long, thick hair, tossing her heavy braid over her shoulder. "But I'm not."

He moved toward her, enveloping her in his embrace from behind. "It doesn't make me think any less of you if that's what you're worried about," he opened his coat and wrapped it around her as she leaned back against him to enjoy this last intimate moment with him before they went off in another heated expedition for refuge. "Never change. You don't have to. Not for them not for him, not even for me. I fell in love with the person you are today. Not the one tomorrow; the one you are right now."

She suddenly turned in his arms, entwining her arms about his neck and smiling brightly up at him. "I heart you," she said happily.

He pushed her against the truck window, placing both his hands on either side of her head. She continued to beam at him as he opened his mouth to speak. "I willlove you till the day we die. Together. In a hail of bullets,"

Misao blushed lightly, her smile fading. "Demolition Lovers, indeed," he pulled her close for one more kiss before loading into the truck.

* * *

My hyperness is going on and off. One minute I'm bouncing off the walls, the next I'm bleah... First chapter was exceptionally mushy, but bear with me. It gets better, I promise. I listened to Demolition Lovers too much. Darn you, Seraph! Oh, well. I did my laundry yesterday and washed my Doors shirt! Awesomeness! I wore it today. Four more chapters and it is done. I haven't forgotten about Burn Out. I'm trying to make it the best of the best of all the chapters I've written. It will make me feel happy. And I want to feel happy. I decided to change Aoshi's 'heart you' back to love you. Kirrae was right about that. It didn't sit too well with me either. 


	2. Give 'em Hell, kid!

Chapter Two: Give 'em hell, kid!

Saito strode the length of the room, pulled the file from the cabinet and slapped the folder onto the desk in front of all the detectives assembled before him.

"They're called the Demolition Lovers, AKA Shinomori Aoshi and Makimachi Misao."

Sano snorted. "Gee, I wonder why they're called that,"

"Yeah, Sano," Megumi agreed sarcastically. "I wonder. Oh! How did you break your hand again?"

Before Sano could retort, Kaoru interrupted. "Oh, and Sano? What was the name of the girl who beat you up everyday after school?" Sano flushed. "Was it Miharu… no, Miyagi? No, was it…Misao." It wasn't a question.

The office erupted in awkward chuckles. Sano pointed with his good hand at Kaoru. "You are so lucky I don't hit girls,"

Kaoru rolled her eyes and Saito yelled for attention back to their topic. When the room fell silent, he opened the file and pulled out two profiles. He pointed to the first one, which was of a man; dark and brooding.

"Shinomori Aoshi. Now, this guy's been trouble all his life. From break ins when he was 9 to robberies when he was 12. He committed his first murder when he was 15, however, it was ruled as unintentional,"

"Unintentional?" Sano repeated. "How can a murder by him be 'unintentional'?"

Saito shrugged impatiently, eager to get on to the next profile. "Not enough evidence against him. He claimed it was self-defense—"

"And they believed him?" Sano interjected, astounded.

Saito glared down at him. "Ever hear of 'innocent until proven guilty'? You're a police officer, Sagara."

Cho laughed. "He's gonna wind up like Justice Wargrave from And Then There Were None. Huntin' down criminals unreached by they law and—"

"Anyway," Saito, interrupted loudly. He threw down the next profile of a young girl with bright, lively eyes and a beautiful, carefree smile. "This is Makimachi Misao," Saito hesitated. "Her early years are clean, but once she reached seventh grade… I don't know. She started staying out late, getting into fights, and disrespecting other people's property. She got sent to juvie three times or more… and was reported seen running off with Shinomori when she was sixteen."

Saito turned to Kaoru, who was standing back in the far corner of the room, playing with her gun. She pulled back the hammer, and then put it back. She pulled back the hammer, and then released it again. She glanced up at him, then quitted fidgeting, turning her attention to her fellow detectives.

"Kamiya knew Misao as a child growing up. They were good friends, but, obviously, decided to go down different paths."

Kaoru huffed and picked up Misao's profile. "You can say that again. I all but lost my respect for her,"

"You kinda did," Sano mumbled.

Kaoru threw him a nasty glare. "Yeah, me and Misao were best friends. Me being the goody two shoes and her being… her. The loud mouthed, hyper active, gun jumping her," Kaoru pursed her lips and shifted her gaze down to the floor. "I tried to believe for seven years that Misao was a good person at heart and I could never blame her fully for all the things she'd done. But, after witnessing the path she chose to follow and the person she chose to walk that path with…" she tossed Misao's profile down onto the table shaking her head and started for the door, when the phone gave a shrill ring.

Saito snapped from his daze and picked the phone up roughly thinking that it was his secretary, and shouted into the mouthpiece. "What do you want!" Turned out, it was his wife. "Sorry," he muttered hurriedly. "What is it?….What!…. Right now?…. Okay…. All right, I'll send two detectives out there now. Thanks… yeah, love you, too,"

He hung up and pointed to Kaoru. "Shinomori and Misao were spotted in town. It looks like they're doing random shootings to buy time to hot wire a car or something. I'm sending you, Kamiya, and Himura to—"

"What! Why him?"

"Because you won't be able to handle both Misao and Shinomori on your own. Besides, like you've gone through the hair pulling and Barbie doll fights with Misao, Himura's had his fights with Shinomori,"

Kaoru turned toward Himura, who was lounging by the door. "Really?"

He slouched over and blushed lightly. "Yeah. A bit like David Bowie. We got into a fight over a girl in High School. He punched me in the eye and itwas yellow for a while. I won the fight—and the girl," he added smirking sheepishly.

Kaoru rolled her eyes. "Just don't hold me back,"

* * *

Her converse clad feet hit the pavement with a loud, hollow sound as she ran the length of the train station, Aoshi not too far behind her as he told her to run ahead and he'd watch her back. She raced through the thick crowd of people shoving individuals in her way, out of it. She glanced over her shoulder once to make sure she hadn't lost him. Sure enough, there he was; sprinting hot on her tail. 

She caught his eye and made a sharp left turn, jumping onto the accelerating train. He soon joined her, a revolver pressed against his chest, ducking down into the train as several shots came flying toward his head. He panted heavily and looked over at her.

"Hey," he flashed her a quick half smile. "We should be safe for now. At least until we reach the next station."

She shut her eyes tightly and collapsed in a heap beside him. "You know, this is so your fault. I told you hitch hiking was a bad idea," when he chortle, she shoved him.

"It's not funny. I hate having bullets flying randomly around my head."

He sat up and pulled her into his lap. "Get used to it,' he murmured, pressing his lips to her ear. "It's my payback to you for making me draw those hearts on all those hitch hiker pick ups."

Misao snorted. "At least you're not in the lion's mouth when drawing hearts. I may as well just wear a giant bull's eye and run out in front of the police station," she glared back at him. "Just being next to you, I'm wearing a giant bull's eye."

He leaned back toward the wall, looking slightly hurt. "You don't mean that, " he said, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself that she didn't.

She sighed dramatically, glared at him critically, then wrapped her arms around his neck. "No,"

He held her back tightly, unwilling to ever release her. He worshipped her, the very ground she walked on. She was light to his dark; music to his silence; life to his barren, unlived one. He never knew life before her; he never knew love before her. He's lived as a vagabond; a man thirsty for something new, oblivious to the fact that he was "dying". She was his reason to stay alive and not get his head blown off. She was his world.

Misao suddenly brought his head down toward hers and kissed him. She smiled mischievously. "Hijack the train?"

He smiled back. "Highjack the train."

They got up and raced down the aisle toward the engine compartment. Once they got there, however, standing splat in the middle of the room with their guns loaded and up, were two detectives. The man with red hair whipped out his insignia.

"We are Detectives Himura and Kamiya. Shinomori Aoshi--"

"And Makimachi Misao!" Kaoru shouted. "You're both under arrest!"


	3. Our Lady of Sorrows

Hey! Sorry for the long update. I've been too busy listening to Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, and Nirvana to write. Not to mention that I got Soul Calibur III. It's awesome and gave me a new inspiration. A pirate tale part two shall be up soon. I have a list of all my stories and their upcoming updates listed on my bio page in case you're interested.

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Chapter Three: Our Lady of Sorrows

"Put your hands where we can see them!"  
Aoshi slowly drew his arm away from Misao's shoulders and together, they raised their hands up over their heads; Aoshi's gun hanging limply from his fingertips. The train then came to a slow, screeching halt and Kenshin pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He strode toward them, his gun still aimed and his finger on the trigger.

"Shinomori Aoshi and Makimachi Misao: the two of you are under arrest due to the crimes you've committed against the law,"

Kaoru snatched one of the cuffs from him and approached Misao. She aimed pointedly at her head and spoke in a low, menacing tone:

"You've the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law," she spat the words out, venom dripping off every syllable. Had she not been a cop, she could've cared less about what words fell from Misao's lips.

The doors of the now immobile train opened. Misao's eyes darted toward it. The station was crammed with pedestrians moving this way and that. Kaoru followed the delinquent's gaze and pulled the hammer back on her revolver.

"Don't even think about it," she snarled.

The once known "weasel girl" lived up to her name and flashed her one time best friend a full toothed grin. "No problem,"

She dove toward the door, Aoshi not too far behind. Kaoru let out a screech of frustration and was about to pull the trigger, when Kenshin grabbed her arm and threw off her shot, it having hit the roof of the train.

"Are you crazy?" they screamed at each other.

Kaoru forced her fingers through her hair, trying to prevent herself from turning her gun at her so called partner.

"Use your head, Kamiya," he growled. "If you missed, you could've hit some innocent bystander."

She snorted. "I wouldn't have missed if only you'd have left me alone!"

"We're on this together. Together, Kamiya—"

"Nu-uh," she interrupted. "Just 'cause Saito sent you here with me, doesn't mean I'm working with you. I want to find Makimachi. I can do it by myself. I don't need you."

Kenshin rolled his eyes. "Shut up, and stop being so damn selfish! Why do you even want to catch Makimachi so bad anyway?"

Kaoru bit her lip and looked away. "While we're standing here wasting time, Misao and Shinomori are getting further and further away!"

Kenshin sighed. He gave in. "Fine, fine. Let's go,"

* * *

"You know," Misao panted out crouching down beside Aoshi. "Of all the places we could've ended up; it had to be a cemetery." 

Aoshi glanced around. She had a point. It resembled the old puritan/Salem cemeteries and reminded him of the graveyard from the Nightmare Before Christmas. The sun was setting and it was beginning to get difficult to see. He got to his feet and extended his hand.

"Take my hand. It's just a yard filled with corpses," he tried to sound reassuring to the pale, shivering girl at his side. Her arms were folded across her chest and her knees knocked together. Her small, slightly upturned nose was a soft hue of pink. It was then that he noticed that all she had on was a ripped, beaten up pair of Levi jeans and an old dusty Stairway to Heaven tee shirt.

He removed his jacket and held it out to her. "Stand tall," he continued, helping her put her arms through the sleeves. "It's not as if they're gonna come up out of the ground and eat you or anything."

She glared at him. "You're making me feel so much better,"

He drew a sharp, angry breath. "Why are you always getting mad at me?"

Misao turned back to him, surprised. "I'm not mad at you," she sighed and seated herself on an old, crumbling tombstone. "I'm just frustrated. The cop who's after us, Kamiya, used to be my best friend."

Aoshi took hold of the door to an above ground tomb. "I know what you mean. Himura and I used to know each other in high school. We got into a fight. Over a girl," he watched her expression change from revelation to not so hidden jealously. "I lost, but took her out anyway. And speaking of graveyards, that's where I took her for our first date—and it was our last date, too, by the way," he managed to force the door open and took her hand again. "Graveyards are nice quiet places to think—during the daytime at least. But, after I met you," he said quietly, pulling her close. "I forgot that girl's name."

Misao glanced at the tomb behind him. "There's absolutely no way in hell that you are going to get me in there,"

"OHMIGOD!"

Aoshi and Misao swung around. Several yards away, a group of gothic teenagers stood pointing at them. One of them had her fishnet-gloved hands pressed against her mouth and was jumping up and down while the boy next to her whipped out a cell phone.

"No need. We're running,"

"Wait!" one of them shouted.

One of the other boys laughed. "What? Gonna ask for their autograph?"

"The Demolition Lovers!"

Aoshi grabbed Misao's elbow and together they raced off through the remainder of the graveyard. Toward the back and hopped the fence. Aoshi made sure Misao was still close behind him before dashing down a narrow dark alley. They leaped behind a dumpster and kneeled low behind it. Misao clutched the front of her shirt and panted loudly, small clouds of smoke appearing before her mouth. She looked up at him glossy eyed.

"They wanted our autograph," she said a moment later.

Aoshi looked at her weirdly. "Do you think we should've waited behind and given it to them?" he asked sardonically.

She closed her eyes and shook her head furiously. "That was unbelievable. We're not freaking celebrities! We—we're WANTED criminals!"

He stared calmly at her. "What are you trying to say?"

She exhaled impatiently. "We're the bad guys, Aoshi-sama!" she tried to add emphasis by making striking motions with her hands. "We're gonna get caught eventually and then, we'll just be another file in a police cabinet! And if we're lucky, an episode on Law and Order!"

Aoshi sighed. She was joking, of course, but the joke was cynical. He couldn't blame her from thinking in such a way, but he was also upset at her continuous cling to the morals of society.

All of a sudden, a gunshot rang out across the sunless alley. Footsteps echoed as they met the hard, filthy floor. Another gunshot.

"We know you're in here. Get out and make this easy,"

Aoshi prepared to stand up and pull out his gun, when Misao grabbed his sleeve and hauled him back down beside him. She looked at him pleadingly. "Kaoru-chan was my best friend. Let me try to talk to her. Maybe she might let us go?"

Aoshi looked at her in disbelief. "Didn't you see how eager she was to arrest us on the train!" he said in a loud whisper. "What are you thinking?"

She suddenly hugged him. "Trust me. Please?"

He released her. He watched as she walked out from behind their hiding spot and stood before the two detectives. They both pulled back their hammers and aimed at her. She held up her hands and her voice pleading. She was tired. She was sorry. So she said. She didn't want this to continue. Aoshi drew his revolver and pressed his thumb against the hammer and stood up.

"Kamiya! Shinomori has a gun—"

"WHAT!"

A third shot sang through the air. Aoshi stood rooted to the ground behind Misao, the gun lying at his feet. The girl before him staggered and fell backward, into his arms. Kamiya's gun slipped slowly from her grasp and next to her Himura stared wide eyed. Aoshi kneeled down with Misao in his arms. What had just happened? She trembled and Kamiya covered her mouth with her hands repeating over and over to herself that her hand slipped.

Trust me 

She'd said. _Trust me._ Why did he? Sure, they'd be a permanent file in a police cabinet, but that immortality never meant dying. At least not literally in his eyes.

* * *


	4. Headfirst for Halos

I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes, talking to strangers waiting in line. I'm _through_ with these pills that make me sit still--

'Are you feeling fine?'

'Yes. I feel just fine.'

* * *

Chapter Four: Headfirst for Halos

"This is Detective Himura. We need an ambulance at the alley between 13th and 15th street immediately. There's been an acc…"

His world had gone silent. All that existed was the girl in his arms. Her blue eyes, which at one point, had been so filled with life and laughter, stared up at him dully, a shade darker than what he remembered. Her once easy breathing was shallow and harsh. Her porcelain like face was blood drained and expressionless. He held her clammy hand tight within his own. He shook her lightly.

"Misao…" he shook her again. "Misao?" his voice cracked. He struggled to keep it even. "Misao." He shook her a bit more aggressively this time.

A faint light returned to her eyes and she gazed up at him. She blinked and gave him a fleeting smile. He brought her hand up and held it against his face.

"You have to stay awake," he told her.

"I think I'm suffering from anemia," she said rather jokingly.

"Why's that?" he asked abruptly, eager to keep conversation going.

She shifted painfully in his arms and winced from a pain in her chest. She released a shuddering sigh and shut her eyes. "I'm so cold," she murmured. Her breathing became shallow again and Aoshi shook her awake.

For the first time in his life, Aoshi felt fear.

"Misao," his voice dropped to a whisper. "Misao, you have to stay awake. You can't fall asleep yet. If you do, you'll miss everything."

Everything. Everything she meant to him.

"There's still so much to see, so much you have to know,"

Like how much she meant to him.

"We've gotten so far—don't back down on me now," it was supposed to be a joke, but it came out as a twisted sob caught in his throat.

He still had so much to show her. He had so much to teach her. So much to prove to her. Himself to prove.

"Misao?"  
Her clouded blue eyes gazed up at him. They cleared momentarily and held his gaze, but then, she blinked and squeezed his hand. Her eyes were now the color of clear blue crystals with a thick milky film over them. Suddenly, she gripped his hand in a seemingly iron grip and looked blindly up at him.

"Aoshi-sama!" she called out weakly, but urgently. "Are you there?"

"I'm right here," he squeezed her hand. "Misao?"

Her head lay limply against his chest, her hand loose within his own. He sat there on the cold, damp, hard cobble-stoned floor and held her. He didn't move. He didn't think. He didn't know what to think. All he knew was that his world lay limp and cold in his arms. His light had gone out. His music became silence. His love crumbled, turned to dust, and blew away in the wind.

His day became night. His song ended. His love ceased to exist. He suddenly gathered Misao up in his arms. He held her head tightly under his chin, pressing kisses against her hair whenever he could. He slowly became aware of the blood seeping out from Misao's chest and soaking into her shirt, but ignored it. Sobs wracked his body, threatening to burst thorough, but he refused to let them do so. He held her tightly in his arms, unable to either release her or let the sobs take control of him even as the ambulance finally came. Came too late and tried to pry her out of his embrace.

He refused to acknowledge them.

All he knew was that now he was surrounded by darkness.

* * *

Really mushy. I know. It was like midnight when I wrote it. I was in that little world between sleep and awake. Confused? Well, if you are, the next chapter revels all... Would you like to: leave a review? leave a review? or, leave a review! Please? 


	5. This is the Best Day Ever!

I'm sorry. This isn't the last chapter. I originally wanted only five chapters, but the final part of the story is really difficult, and I think it'll be best left on its own as a closing chapter. Well... here's the second to last chapter.

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Chapter Five: This is the Best Day Ever!

(Chapter named for ironic purposes)

"Okay, Kamiya…last time: tell me what happened,"

Kaoru took a deep breath and blew her nose on the handkerchief Himura had given her. He stood somewhat behind her, patting her back awkwardly. Saito waited patiently behind the desk until her hypervenelations ceased.

She finally heaved a great sigh and briefly recalled the scene's events. The alley. Misao's surrendering. Shinomori and the gun…

"All I knew was Misao was right in front of me. Before I knew what was happening, Himura was shouting: Shinomori's got a gun! I acted on impulse," she looked up at Saito pleadingly, her eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying. "I swear, I didn't mean to shoot I may have acted like I really wanted to, but you know how it is when you think you really want something, then you finally get it and you regret it with every fiber of your being?"

"Yeah. I felt that way when I married my wife,"

He put the tape recorder aside as she stifled a slight smile.

"Take a few days off, Kamiya; I'll call you back in when I think you're ready."

Kaoru drew back in surprise. He pulled out her badge. "Aren't you gonna suspend me for a month or so? I committed a murder!"

"That's going too hard on yourself, Kaoru," Himura said quietly. "You acted in self defense."  
Kaoru blinked, confused. Had she been any other guy off the street firing shots in self-defense, she'd have been arrested on the spot and sent to jail for life. Maybe it was all the flashbacks she was having of Misao, but she began to understand Misao's crazy political views.

It was a Les Miserables retelling. She was the cruel, heartless Javert, while Misao was the kind, yet hardened Valjean. She, Javert, had been so intent with enforcing the law that she hadn't once stopped to question whether the laws themselves had been lawful.

In all honesty, before the police found out where 16-year-old Misao had gone, seven years ago, what trouble had the Demolition Lovers caused? None. It wasn't until they began going after them trying to arrest Shinomori simply for being in her presence that the Demolition Lovers began to live up to their name.

"Jo-chan! Hey, Jo-chan!" Kaoru stopped in the middle of the hall and turned. "How'd it go?" Sano asked.

"They're not suspending me,"

Sano chuckled. "Why should they? You shot in self defense--"

"And so did Shinomori when he was 15," she turned back around and began walking away again.

"Hey, you okay, Jo-chan?" Sano stood by the door, his arm in a blue cast, thanks to Megumi. He knew the answer already, but it seemed the proper question to ask. "Jo-chan? Kaoru, are you okay?"

She merely glanced over her shoulder at him and continued on down the hall to Shinomori cell. Apologies probably didn't matter, but it was the least she could do.

* * *

Loved it? Hate it? Let me know. If you hated it, don't bother. I don't really want to know.


	6. Ghost of You

Darn. Story's over already. I'd love to write this one all over again just for the hell of it. Oh, well. Interpret the ending how you like. It can go two ways now that I think about it. I find Aoshi to be a little OOC in this one sadly. I tried to keep him in character, but... well, I tried. I promise. I slightly edited some of the previous chapters. EMO sUX, but this chapter was totally emo...Okay. Read. While I continue doing homework.

* * *

Chapter Six: Ghost of You

The only sound was the constant drip-drip of the leaky faucet nearby. Other than that, the murky, dim, filthy prison cell was soundless. Shinomori Aoshi sat hunched up against the moist, moss-covered wall with his cuffed hands over his knees and his head buried in his arms.

Fury. Rage. Misery. Anguish. Hopelessness…they were all beyond him. He was at a point where emotions were the once fierce fire deep within his soul that had been extinguished long ago. He felt nothing but emptiness about him that he couldn't quite place.

He still loved her.

And always would.

No one could ever take her place. There would never be a second 'Demolition Lovers' with some girl who shared Misao's face, but never her fire. No one could replace Misao.

Aoshi looked up. The entire room was empty—save for the sleeping guard seated in front of his cell with empty bottles of sake slipping from his fingers and scattering the floor around him. The so-called "capture of the Demolition Lovers" was, for some reason, a cause for celebration among the police department. He found it incredibly stupid, yet terribly amusing at how two people caused the whole city trouble. He expected more from them. Police departments filled with officers all after two mortals. He'd laugh if he had the strength. The guard snorted suddenly and began to snore loudly; a bit of drool beginning to slide down the left corner of his mouth slowly and settle around his chin. Aoshi scowled at him.

He crawled toward the sleeping man and gently reached fro his gun. The moment Aoshi's hand connected with the smooth wood, the guard stirred; his head rolling from one shoulder to the other. He smacked his lips together once…twice…three times, and then drifted back into a drunken slumber, snoring lightly this time.

For three days, Aoshi had remained immobile. He had simply sat and stared. He arose no threats, offered no reason for anyone to watch for an attempt from him to escape, and gave no evidence he even knew where he was.

When the Kamiya girl came to apologize…. He didn't even spare her a glance. He ignored her hour and a half of blubbering and sorry attempts at apologies. He ignored her up until Himura came down and dragged her out. He was greatly relieved at no longer having to hear Kamiya's "sorrys" and her "fondest memories of Misao" when he could barely think of his own of her with a clear leveled head. She was probably trying to cheer him up with the funny little things Misao did when they were younger, but she was wasting her time.

Aoshi reached out toward the guard's gun again. This time, he grasped the wooden and metal handle firmly and slid it out of the holster. He then returned to his spot by the wall and sat, starring at the gun.

What was it that Misao told him about those ancient Greek philosophers? Was it the Cynics? Scorn virtue and seek pleasure? He mildly recalled the story of the homeless old Cynic man who owned nothing but a barrel and bread sack. One evening, Alexander the Great, feeling sorry for him, asked if there was anything he could do for him. In response, the old man requested that Alexander step to the side for he was blocking the sun.

Aoshi _was_ the Cynic old man requesting that Death move to the side and reveal Misao. But, unlike Alexander, Death did not move to the side. Aoshi missed the setting sun's warm rays: Misao's happiness and light. He had nothing. He gave it all up for her. Now that she was gone, he had nothing to live for.

He pulled back the hammer on the gun. Should he end like Kurt Cobain? Gun in mouth, fall with a bang? Or maybe like Misao? Hit to the heart, dead without fear? What were those verses on her shirt again? He slowly brought the gun to his head, index finger on the trigger.

There walks a lady we all know

Who shines white light and wants to show

How everything still turns to gold

And if you listen very hard

The tune will come to you at last

When all are one and one is all

The pistol in his hand shook. It was odd at how friendly it had looked a moment ago. A bed of roses with a dozen reasons already available for him. She was gone! Gone, lying on some cold metal tray in some hospital storeroom! He had nothing…but her memory.

The gun slipped from his fingers. Suicide…an insult to her memory. He; who loved life and lived to the fullest. "Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die!" as the Epicureans would have put it. He expected more of himself. She expected more from him. Suicide. Could he go any lower?

The gun hit the floor, and suddenly—there she was. Standing right in front of him. A white hospital bloodstained gown, with her jeans beneath it. Her messy braid hung over her shoulder and draped around her face. Aoshi looked up, searching for her eyes. There they were: bright and as blue as ever.

Before he knew what was happening—the colossal, seemingly unbreakable damns around his heart shattered. The tears and emotions knocking it down and forcing it outward like pieces of a breaking glass window. The tears burst from his eyes like the flooding of the Nile. He reached out a trembling hand towards hers. Her skin was soft and cold. Smooth and delicate. He wanted to gather her in his arms, cover her face with kisses, and bury his face into the soft, warm flesh of her neck. He looked for her eyes again. There was nothing left to say.

"I mean this: forever."

* * *

Has anyone ever noticed that on the sleeve of the MCR album of Three Cheers, on the back, Gerard mentions that the drawing on the cover is of th Demolition Lovers II? I like the idea of having Misao in a coma, Patience Halliwell. R&R 


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